


Drive by Meetings

by ember_alda



Series: Realms of Influence [3]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Humor, threats of animal cruelty, voiiiiis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_alda/pseuds/ember_alda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Squalo looks at the red stitched ball rolling silently on the grass beneath their feet. His head travels along the diagonal path the air-born thing had taken, and ends at a man holding a bat casually over his shoulder, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as he stares at the two foreigners.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive by Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: _Yamamoto never gets involved with Tsuna, never becomes the rain guardian, and Squalo only accidentally sees/meets him as a pro baseball player._

 

They got bored, after a while. Checking up on the Japanese base takes a while and Xanxus had insisted that they stay the entirety of the time there. Mamon was a hermetic recluse who liked to do nothing but pore over their accounts and his personal nest egg, Lussuria was too… _Lussuria_ to take anywhere, much less be seen in public with, and Levi was the most annoying fucker Squalo had ever known. That left him and the brat, not that Belphagor was the most stunning company, being easily distracted by delicatessens and stray cats, but Squalo takes him with, roaming around town.

God, there was absolutely nothing to do in Japan. Daytime activities were nil to non-tourists and first off, Squalo absolutely _hated_ arcades, making sure they weren’t even within a hundred feet of one because Bel could spend _days_ playing video games. Second off, he loathed shopping, any kind of shopping; food, clothes, dish detergent, guns, pencils, what ever he hell it was he didn’t want to go into a store and buy it because he did it _all the time already_. He runs about all over Italy bending backwards for an _extremely_ picky bastard trying to get what he wants every week.

Bel suggested they go to a pond and feed the swans, and though it was an activity fitting of two seventy year old men who couldn’t bear to throw away moldy bread, he’d acquiesced.

A multi-colored jungle gym sprawled in the center of a partitioned, sand filled lot. Trees and a small field lined the rest of the land and at the very edge of the park were a minuscule pond and three benches. They didn’t see any swans, or ducks.

“Japan sucks,” Bel frowns. “Why did you pick this place? There’re no swans, no kids, and a lame jungle gym. I could be shooting up zombies or watching chickens at the butchery instead of this shit.”

The swordsman’s eyes narrow. “What? This isn’t my fault, you were the one who wanted to feed _swans_ in fucking Japan! That’s the best thing you can think of?”

“Swans are befitting for _prince_ to feed, ushishishishi. If you’re so disappointed in yourself why don’t you give yourself a perm.”

“VOIIIIIIIIIIIII FOR THE LAST TIME I’M NOT PERMING MY HAIR. I’M NOT SOME FREAKING LADYYYYY!”

When the fight escalates the two Varia struggle and knock against the tree beside them. The loud timbres of their voices drown out the ominous rustling coming from above, when all of a sudden a squirrel lands promptly on Squalo’s head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Reflexes twice as quick as the animal’s capture the tiny creature. Bel’s hand securely closed around a furred torso while he starts grinning. “Look, I caught an ear-muff. Care to have a taste?” A small, but deadly fist grips around the poor creature’s tail as he dangles it in the other’s face, swinging it like a pendulum.

“Hey, we do not have a box and no I’m not carrying that thing in my coat. And no, if you kill it now the blood will spray _everywhere_ and I am not washing out my clothes _again_ after that thing with the frog.”

“You can buy new ones.”

“YOU KNOW I HATE SHOPPING.”

Between the two of them is a heated stare down, the knife poised between the two of them with the squirrel crushed helplessly to Belphagor’s chest.

“You are not doing this.”

A knife flicks out into Bel’s hand anyway, despite the warning, and Squalo doesn’t care if the kid is pissed but it was _not going to happen_ unless rain-ponchos start falling from the sky.

Instead, what falls is a white blur, hitting the Belphagor in the back of the head so hard he has to brace himself against the tree to keep from toppling over in unconsciousness, dropping his squirrel in the process.

“A baseball?”

Squalo looks at the red stitched ball rolling silently on the grass beneath their feet. His head travels along the diagonal path the air-born thing had taken, and ends at a man holding a bat casually over his shoulder, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as he stares at the two foreigners.

“Ahaha- sorry, my hand slipped.” The apology seems to clash with the warm smiling lips and genial eyes of the man who’d hit Bel on the head. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. Maybe if you stay in the park long enough another squirrel will appear.”

Squalo bursts out laughing; the peeved look on Belphagor’s face at what the stranger said was just too much. He’s in a much better mood now that providence had taken his side and made the kid drop the stupid creature.

“Japanese guys are all right.”

The baseball man beams at this and Belphagor attempts to kick Squalo in the shin but he’s still woozy from the hit, so he misses by a wide margin. Yamamoto’s eyes go wide once he sees the knife sticking out of the boy’s sleeve.

“Um…not to pry, but don’t you think it’s a dangerous to let him have such dangerous things?”

A vicious curve tugs a corner of the swordsman’s mouth. “It’s for self protection. You can’t ever be too careful.”

“Oh. That’s true I guess.” He leans in conspiratorially to the white haired foreigner. “But next time, you should tell him that squirrels don’t attack people, he doesn’t need to hurt them.”

It’s Squalo’s turn to blink as the man saunters away, humming a slight upbeat tune as he goes off further into the field of the park. Ha, so that man really had done it on purpose! He smiles in amusement before he pats Belphagor’s head, despite the fact the kid made a swipe at him with his knife for it.

“Come on, brat. Let’s go kill some zombies.”

-0-

Later that night while they watch local TV, Squalo makes Lussuria flip the channel back to the sports announcement. In the corner of the screen, he sees a familiar face flash up with a complete set of stats along the bottom.

Somehow, he’s not surprised to know that he’d met a pro.

 

THE END

 


End file.
